


Time Will Tell

by smokingtiger



Category: DBSK | Tohoshinki | TVfXQ | TVXQ
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Rating of this story may grow more restrictive over time and is subject to change, obligatory chef meets primary school teacher AU, please think of it as a kdrama kind of tone
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-02
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-05-01 07:03:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14515011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smokingtiger/pseuds/smokingtiger
Summary: Something in Yunho’s brain short-circuits-- he has trouble blinking away recollection of the tall man in a black uniform bringing out a bright red box in a pristine white bag. He also has trouble staving off the memory of feeling butterflies when he accidentally brushed his fingers along the man’s knuckles when reaching beneath the box to receive it. The employee with the name tag “Shim Changmin” chuckled amusedly through a quiet exhale when Yunho apologized, and it was in that moment the primary school teacher felt his own breath being stolen from his lungs.





	1. Meeting

Changmin gathers everything of his willpower to not groan aloud.

His break time had been interrupted by a frantic, waving hand at the corner of his vision the very second he stepped out of the men’s restroom. The manager looked terribly frantic after pressing two fingers to their ear on a Bluetooth headset and mouthed to Changmin that he need man the front for “just a short moment, please; I’ll be right back!”

Earnestly speaking, Changmin finds himself out of his comfort zone at the front counter of Cassiopeia. He doesn’t enjoy the thought of being the first face people see when they enter the establishment and almost wishes he could cut his break time short just to retreat to the safety of the kitchen in the back. The counter surface is cold to the touch and lacks the hustle and bustle of moving equipment and leave his eyes to wander aimlessly until they settle upon the dulled gleam of the metallic door bar at the entrance.

It isn’t even two minutes in and the sous-chef is already scrambling for a pen on the surface of an unfamiliar setting with phone receiver off the ringer and tucked between his ear and shoulder. Changmin is quick enough to retrieve the reservations binder and finds his extra effort was for absolute naught as he spends too many minutes with the caller explaining there really were no more reservations available on a chosen date and provides sympathetic hums of acknowledgement as the caller deliberates out loud what to do about his wife. Changmin had tuned out about three minutes ago and can’t for the life of him recall anything else about the conversation if his life depended on it. He picks off invisible lint from his shirt collar and excuses himself with a goodbye, hanging up when indoor lighting reflected on the glass door of the entryway moves as someone quietly enters.

The guest brings with him a scent of wood chips and cut grass that wafts against Changmin’s face in a warm wind and it catches the chef off-guard as much as him realizing he has forgotten the alphabet and how to make any kind of sound. The man before him bows his head with a gentle “hello,” and he is courteous enough to watch for the door behind him so it is closed completely. Sunglasses come off the patron’s face and Changmin matches his gaze with a stranger of warm and sincere presence, still unable to pull himself together.

“Welcome!” the bartender at the wall perpendicular to the reception counter supplies in Changmin’s stead. Kyuhyun has his sleeves neatly rolled up along his forearms and is occupied with polishing a glass in his hands. He walks down wooden flooring making a rat tail of the towel and leans over the waist-high barrier between them to whip Changmin’s shoulder with extended reach. “Shim-ssi, is something the matter?”

Changmin flinches and doesn’t miss a beat to turn on his heels and stare wide-eyed daggers at the tender behind him. Kyuhyun is grinning nonetheless and gestures towards their guest with amusement laced in his snickering. The resident chef expertly composes his features before turning back to the patron who now blinks and shifts in his stance—a sign of sympathy and cue to move on without trouble.

“I’m very sorry,” Changmin supplies with a deep nod. “For both his behavior and mine. Thank you for coming to Cassiopeia. Will you be dining in or out?”

“I’m actually here to pick up from the baked goods selection,” the guest smiles and Changmin feels that his tongue is lead within his mouth. “Certainly. Name?” he almost slurs, mustering up the remnants of his rapidly-depleting professionalism to politely look at the customer again.

“Jung Yunho,” the man promptly responds, and he is quick to present with two hands a slip of paper from inside his wallet. “My receipt.” Changmin feels that he is bowing one too many times as he takes the offering and scribbles his signature of acknowledgement at the bottom corner before tapping away on a touch monitor

* * *

 

It’s nearly an hour after closing and the resident mischief makers Changmin calls his “friends” have followed him into the walk-in fridge while he checks stock. He’s raising his clipboard by his head to fend them off, but his friends are unfortunately clever.

Minho closes the door to provide the three privacy and joins Kyuhyun in hooking their arms over Changmin’s shoulders, leaving the man to crouch from the coworkers at his sides intentionally bending their knees so he be both trapped and weighed down between them.

“CHANGMIIIN!” they holler in unison and Changmin nearly misses thwacking Kyuhyun on the back of his head with the flat of aforementioned clipboard as payback for the rat tail whip earlier that afternoon.

Minho is grinning ear-to-ear as his brows lift with curiosity and anticipation. “Hyung, is it true you’ve got a crush? Is Kyuhyun-hyung lying to me?” He leans in closer by Changmin’s right ear and cups his hand by his mouth to whisper, “On a scale of one to ten, what was he?”

Kyuhyun presses his ear to Changmin’s own at the left—as if he’d hear what Minho whispered on the opposite end.

“He’s a ten!” Kyuhyun blurts. Minho gasps, eyes blown comically wide.

Changmin’s eyes couldn’t possibly roll further back into his skull at the joke pulled and manages to squirm his way out of the grips of the two sandwiching him in a refrigerator. “Minho, why are you egging this coconut head on? I taught you better.”  

It’s Minho’s turn to cause a ruckus and he claps his hands, condensation from the cold inside the fridge escaping his lips as he laughs.

Kyuhyun is still smiling with his arms folded over his chest and weight shifted onto one foot. “'Birds of a feather.’ Therefore, my head isn’t the only one that’s hollow around here. Who was the one who couldn’t even say the phrase ‘welcome’ when Yunho came in? I practically saved you.”

Changmin’s feet are freezing and his fingers are ice, but his face grows feverish as his embarrassment makes itself known and climbs up to the chef’s cheeks and ears.

“…Yunho?” Minho perks at the mention, tapping his foot twice in thought. “Was it Jo or Jung, or--?”

“Jung,” Changmin clarifies, a little too suddenly.

“Ahh,” Minho snaps his fingers in familiarity. “Jung Yunho is that one primary school teacher who works not very far off from here. I’ve talked with him a few times when he stops by.”

Kyuhyun does not miss the moment Changmin’s eyes flicker with small hope.

“…Does he come around often? Does he have a favorite dish?”

“Not so much that,” Minho raises both his index fingers and loosely crosses them in front of his chest, nose wrinkled. “He’ll sometimes do pick-ups from the bakery selection and leave soon after. Apparently small snacks for the kids he works with. Otherwise he’ll walk in with friends and hit the bar. He’s a kind spirit, honestly.”

“Doesn’t drink, though. Prefers not to,” Kyuhyun chimes in with half a shrug.

Changmin bites his lower lip to stop himself from imagining the man who personifies the sun providing cookies and milk to a herd of children gathering around his legs. There’s trouble to be had if he continues to wonder about the school teacher--

“…Do you two know anything else about him?”

\--Apparently he’s willing to have a little trouble, regardless of if he’s going to perhaps kick himself for the choice later _. It may be sooner than later_ , he thinks, watching as gears churn above the heads of his colleagues.

“I think we can help you out,” Kyuhyun rubs his hands together with a supportive smile and nod, “but first can we get out of here? Before we lose our fingers from the cold and potentially lose our jobs.”

* * *

The radio plays calming sounds of oceans waves touching shore until the room is filled with soft snores and a very significant lack of squealing toddlers. It is a welcome afternoon refrain from the busy and hard work with children for the adults of the care center.

He’s crouched over a low plastic table with rounded edges as he counts out circular biscuits with fruit jam centers dotted on each one. Yunho fills small paper containers neatly arranged on a tray while his teacher’s assistant Taemin is hunched over next to him counting out an equal number of juice boxes and poking straws.

“Vitamin-teacher, are you falling ill?” the young man asks in a hushed voice, placing his hand on Yunho’s shoulder. “If vitamin-Yunho-teacher gets sick, the rest of us are doomed,” he murmurs.

Yunho fans out air from the box of cookies in his lap and relishes in the smell of strawberry jam gusted into his face. “No; not sick. If I was, I shouldn’t be here and put our young students in danger, right?”

“Then distracted?” Taemin supplies, curiosity lingering in the whisper.

“In love,” Yunho’s coworker deadpans aloud, standing behind the two to hover over them at the arts and crafts table.

Yunho shushes Heechul with a muffled smack to the man’s shin and tugs on his apron to bring the eldest down for the huddle. “Heechul-teacher, it’s nap time; please be courteous with your volume levels.”

Unaffected, Heechul retaliates with a poke to Yunho’s left cheek. “Yurobbong, they’re not going to hear anything we say over the CD track. Take a break.”

Yunho takes the opportunity to stuff three cookies into his friend’s mouth and prevent anything else regrettable coming out of their gob.

“I picked these up after work yesterday. Boa made vanilla cookies with strawberry jam. Tastes great, right?” he asks, brushing off crumbs onto a napkin.

Taemin reaches over to Yunho’s lap and takes one of the treats between his fingers to inspect. “These are very well-made and uniform. Boa-nuna is honestly so good to the classroom. It’s a lucky thing we help to take care of her niece.”

Yunho works out the creases in his navy blue apron with the flat of his palm and a smile makes its way to the corners of his lips. “She is very kind to supply these kinds of treats for us regularly. The atmosphere of the restaurant she works in is hectic.”

Heechul has his head turned momentarily to scan over the room and count the number of sleeping children on mats before reentering the conversation. “Let’s stop beating around the bush now and focus. Yunho, who rode on horseback to sweep you off your feet?”

Something in Yunho’s brain short-circuits-- he has trouble blinking away recollection of the tall man in a black uniform bring out a bright red box in a pristine white bag. He also has trouble staving off the memory of feeling butterflies when he accidentally brushed his fingers along the man’s knuckles when reaching beneath the box to receive it. The employee with the name tag “Shim Changmin” chuckled amusedly through a quiet exhale when Yunho apologized, and it was in that moment the primary school teacher felt his own breath being stolen from his lungs.

“That isn’t focusing, hyung. I’ll… I’ll tell you at the end of the day. Promise,” the teacher waves off, bashful and dismissive. Heechul is about to rattle the man’s brains and shake his shoulders when all of a sudden the sound of crashing waves in the classroom transitions into tinkling wind chimes and soft harp trills. Relieved, Yunho cues Taemin to turn on the lights as he stands to put away the rest of the cookies in the upstairs staff lounge.

Heechul is highly unsatisfied and exhales through puffed cheeks. He chooses to acquiesce just for the time being, reaching for the small bell in his own apron pocket to help lull the children out of their brief slumber.

The next hour and one-half are spent with Heechul reading the children a story and Yunho teaching the students the dance to a confounded song about a family of sharks and their varying jaw sizes. Taemin joins in later to help watch everyone in the outdoor playground and is in charge of the sign out sheet for when parents come to pick up their child while Heechul sticks very closely to Yunho in hopes of coercing some information out of the man before they take the school bus and make a round to drop the rest off at their stops.

The adults regroup within the walls of the school just as the excitement of another school day has finally died down. Heechul and Taemin flock to Yunho’s sides near immediately and rush him into the teachers’ office to sit him down before he has the chance to begin disinfecting the play mats.

“On a white horse?”

“Eh?”

Heechul takes a seat backwards on a chair and rests his chin upon a forearm laid along the top of the backrest. “Did they arrive on a white horse and wear a cape? Did the sun shine from behind their silhouette to outline their frame as the wind blew through their hair?”

Yunho has difficulty looking Heechul in the eye and settles for staring at his own hands—fingers interlaced and resting upon the front of his apron.

“Wow, so romantic, Yunho-hyung,” Taemin blinks in surprise and makes his way to the water cooler to prepare three cups.

“You make it sound like I believe in fairytales,” Yunho pouts up at Heechul, who in turn pats the man’s leg in empathy. “I’m not like that, hyung.”

“Never bought it before, not buying it now,” Heechul nods to Taemin as he is handed his cup. “I know you like the back of my hand. You had to have some kind of slow motion moment in seeing them, right? What kind of experience was it?”

Yunho rubs the side of his nose with a finger, piecing together his response. “He has a soft but strong kind of aura to him… Something like that, I don’t know,” the man hides behind the cup in his hand, suddenly feeling quite small. “Maybe it’s also because of a fully black uniform, but I just thought he is a really cool kind of person too. A little on the quiet side, maybe… Bright, round eyes…

“…He also has cute ears,” he mutters.

“ _Dark horse_ ,” Taemin provides, nodding slowly. Heechul hums in agreement.

_Fully black uniform, was it? Sounds familiar enough._

“Yunho-ya.”

“Hmm?”

“Not that it matters, but hyung here thinks you sound like a teenager rather than 32.”

Yunho finishes his drink and flicks the styrofoam cup at Heechul’s head.

Taemin doesn’t comment that he thinks the same.

* * *

A/N: Hello and thank you for reading, if you've made it down here in one piece ^^ This is a commission fic for a friend who told me they needed this kind of scenario between Yunho and Changmin to be a slow burn haha.

If you are not familiar with it, TVXQ was part of a show in which Changmin works in a restaurant's kitchen and Yunho as a primary school teacher for three days. It is a very cute watch. Please look into it when you can, because their uniforms and personalities are adorable throughout the entirety.

**I would really appreciate some feedback! Please feel free to comment.**  It will motivate me to write faster to get this done lol.


	2. Missed Chance

Changmin is almost frustrated that there are at least three people in the restaurant who know of Yunho more than he does, but for whatever reason not one of them has ever considered introducing him to the guy. He turns the irksome feeling into opportunity instead and it takes him three days to gather enough courage to approach Cassiopeia’s patissier to talk about things other than dessert preparations for the evening. Changmin is 30 years old but gazes like the most intrigued child at the cake decorating happening at the end of an island as he approaches the next target of his interest. He is half-admiring the artist’s concentration and half-deliberating on what to say without completely interrupting the woman.

“You’re really putting the new icing nozzle to great use as of late,” Changmin states, standing next to the pastry chef as he leans forward to examine her work. “Is the cake a personal order?”

Boa’s concentration does not let up for a moment to even humor him as her eyes stay glued to her confection. “This cake will be out the door and eaten before you say what you really want to. Quickly, Changdol.”

“Boa-nuna,” Changmin places a hand to his chest in tender, mock shock. “Nunim, so cold.”

Boa pauses with a furrowed brow, concern suddenly muddling her focus. She places the piping bag down to lean against the counter and look up to the chef as they both straighten their postures, still a tad upset by how tall Shim Changmin is compared to her own petite stature.

“Something must really be bothering you for you to be calling me ‘nunim.’ What’s wrong? Do I need to deal with someone?” the pastry chef asks, tone hushed.

“N-No, no…” Changmin waves his hands in front of his person with a chuckle to cushion his impact. “I was only a little curious about the treats you provide the primary school just a few blocks away from here.”

“Ah. I make enough to treat my niece and her classmates once in a while. I got permission from the head chef since it’s covered on my tab…  
“Is there an issue with it?”

The sous-chef finds that his shoulders relax at her words and pats the air to dismiss her concern. “Not at all; I honestly find it very kind of you. Just about the guy who comes in to pick up the stuff regularly... Do you know him well?”

Boa is quickly piecing together the complete picture when she sees two pairs of arms across the workspace flagging down her attention behind Changmin’s back. When she pretends to stretch and leans further to the side for a better view of Minho and Kyuhyun miming at her, they’ve raised to their foreheads their smartphones with “Yunho” and “Changmin” written in large font on electronic marquees scrolling horizontally across the length of the screens. The two have formed a messy heart by curling inwards their unoccupied arms over their heads and quickly release after Boa quirks a brow to signal her recognition and for them to beat it before Changmin catches on.

“He’s a long-time friend and my niece’s teacher this year,” she offers, blinking away the distraction she’d witnessed. “Did something happen between you two?”

Changmin has his head turned away for a brief moment to signal at a kitchen hand and ask they be careful with knives that were recently re-sharpened. “That’s actually what I’m hoping for,” he replies with a small smile. “Do you think you could introduce me sometime? Hint me in on what kind of guy he is or what hobbies he has?”

Boa scoffs in good humor with one hand rested on her hip. “We’ll see.”

Changmin is very close to making a fool of himself in front of all the rest of the staff and prepares his lips to pout. “But—“

“Ah-ah,” she positions her hands around the piping bag again, pointing the tip up to the sous-chef’s face. “I’m not completely leaving you in the dark. Just give me some time to process the fact that my coworker has a crush on my niece’s teacher.”

“You’re the best.”

“Thanks for the reminder,” she hums, getting back to decorating. “Now do you mind leaving? Your head is blocking the light.”

* * *

 

Changmin is in a notably good mood for the rest of the evening shift despite it being one of the busiest he’s ever had since starting at the restaurant.

The fatigue follows him well into the weekend when supervising and adjusting plates for high-end dinner gatherings, and the raspy voice he’s caught by the end of Saturday is accompanied by sniffling on Sunday. The head chef pulls him aside on Monday afternoon to lift the bill of Changmin’s hat and take a closer look at his eyes.

“Incredible,” his boss mumbles in dissatisfaction.

“Sir?”

“Shim Changmin-ssi, I’d rather we not disrespect our guests with any menu item that has not been inspected by someone able to work at their very best,” the elder explains, fondly fitting the hat securely on Changmin’s head. “It was a tough week. Go home.”

“Yes, chef.”

He receives a sincere pat to his shoulder and is dismissed to head to the lockers and change back into his civilian clothes. The sous-chef can’t help but let out a sigh riddled with relief of and disappointment in his health as he reaches to undo the strings of his apron tied at his waist.

* * *

 

“‘Inspection of toys is more often than I had previously thought,’ really?” Yunho leans against a beige wall and twirls his pen between his fingers, skimming over his assistant’s weekly progress report.

Taemin hums at the question as he sifts through sheets of paper still warm and fresh from the printer. “I mean you are very passionate about cleaning. It’s a compliment towards you.”

Heechul nearly spits out his tea from his seat at the staff lounge table. “Passionate about cleaning? He is passionate with his job that _involves_ some cleaning. This guy’s home is a mess if you drop by without warning.”

Yunho fans at his coworker across the table with Taemin’s papers in-hand. “All right, all right. That’s enough, thank you.”

“He is only thorough with cleaning outside of home?” the youngest asks, watching Yunho sign and date the first sheet. There is a small pause in the room while the teacher skims over everything once more.

“Children have curious hands and mouths at this age. I would feel very guilty if any of our students fall ill because of the carelessness of the adults here. The least we can do is try our best for them,” Yunho responds in earnest as he hands back the papers. “Also, isn’t it common for people to grow tired immediately after getting home?  
“It’s that kind of feeling.”

* * *

 

The moment Yunho steps outside the school to face the season of spring carried within the air, he yawns aloud and stretches his sides with arms reaching up at dimming sky. The sun sets to retire for the day and leaves behind its bright trail a fully-painted canvas of warming colors throughout the great expanse that remind the man he need consider heading home before the moon and stars should meet to spend time together in hushed company of evening. Yunho adjusts the strap of the messenger bag on his shoulder before stuffing his hands into loose jacket pockets and treading upon a familiar concrete path to the local grocery store.

He’s greeted by workers in uniform too busy with tasks to properly look him in the face, but he still replies to the store a greeting of his own as he takes an immediate left to wander into an aisle of dry goods. Yunho picks out a few ramyun bowls with sale stickers on the shrink wrap and some snacks to store at both home and the staff lounge at the school. He takes out a box of biscuits with strawberry cream centers from his basket and places it back on its rightful place on the shelf, smiling to himself for exercising self-discipline.

When he reaches the prepared food section located next to the array of various rice cakes and blood sausage packs, Yunho contemplates getting either spicy rice and fish cakes or one of two lunch box options offering either chicken or pork cutlets. The man snaps out of his thoughts when someone to his left parks their rolling basket by his feet and sneezes into their sleeve.

“Could you pass me the dried pollock soup next to you?”

“Sure,” Yunho replies, picking up a plastic container on his right. He stands up to offer it properly and he meets the eyes of the chef he’d been teased about at both work and on his phone for the past week.

Upon eye contact Changmin holds his soup still at arm’s length just as how he had received it, his lips pressed to form a thin line to dampen the smile that still reaches up to his eyes. Yunho smiles in full, embarrassed for the awkward silence that settles for a second too long between them. “Good to see you again,” he offers, nodding his head. He taps his index finger to his own chest to gesture the location of a nametag he’d noticed the last time they met. “Changmin-ssi, right?”

Changmin perks up at how his name sounds from their lips, letting out a silent laugh when his eyes land upon a splotch of color clipped to Yunho’s jacket. The school teacher looks down to find that he’d forgotten to leave his nametag behind at work and wants to kick himself for walking down multiple blocks with a picture of Pororo on his chest.

“…Ah; I forgot to take it off. I’m sorry you had to see this,” he covers the face of the aviator penguin character and hastily unclips the laminated picture to tuck it away in the smallest pocket of his work bag.

“‘Vitamin Yunho,’ was it?” Changmin is still smiling and Yunho feels that is enough to make him want to bury himself alive.

“School teacher?”

“Yes,” ‘vitamin’ teacher responds, rubbing his nose with an idle hand. “I work with teaching kindergarteners, as you could have guessed easily…”

“Pororo is very cute,” the chef shifts his weight from one foot to the other. “The kids must like it very much.”

Yunho moves aside and away from the shelf when a lady excuses herself to grab something behind him. His gaze shifts to Changmin’s own now lowered to skim over the amount of snacks and juice in his basket and finds himself flustered for looking like he still has the palate of a child.

Changmin finally puts his soup down and stands in front of his basket currently holding two six-packs of beer and a bottle of soju. The gesture does not go unnoticed, but Yunho would much rather let it slide and is sure Changmin is of the same mind.

“You must be exhausted from hard work, but I must admit I’m still surprised to meet a chef of a high-end establishment at the prepared food from the grocery store,” Yunho states, focusing on the soup instead.

Changmin is grateful for the conversation diverting elsewhere, keeping his grin before his face contorts and hides in his sleeve to sneeze again. “I’m usually one to also cook at home when I can, but today is a bit of an exception.”

Yunho understands sick days all too well. “You have my sympathy; I’m sorry to hear.”

Much to his dismay, he hears his cellphone go off from within his jacket and he takes a few quick steps aside to check his screen. His brows rise to find that Taemin is the one who’s calling and immediately picks up out of worry.

“Taemin-ah, what’s up?”

“Yunho-hyung, I’m so sorry,” the assistant sighs, clearly frustrated on the opposite line. “I completely missed something and need you to look over just one more thing for me.”

Yunho sighs, clicking his tongue once. “Well, it can’t be helped. Remember to be more thorough in the future.”

“Right, absolutely.”

“Do you need me to meet with you soon? I’m still nearby the area.”

“That would be amazing; I need to have this uploaded and turned in within the hour--”

“Yah, Lee Taemin!”

“Again, I’m sorry. I’ll treat you to dinner tonight.”

Yunho scolds his aide with a few more sentences before hanging up and returning to Changmin standing around nearby, who was only pretending to be interested in the fish selection nestled upon displays of ice. He apologizes for their conversation having been interrupted and explains he needs to meet someone at a café immediately.

An idea suddenly dawns upon him and Changmin watches curiously as Yunho unlatches the cover to his bag before rummaging through the outermost pocket. He retrieves five multi-colored tubes of a drink powder and Changmin’s heart nearly leaps out of his chest when his hand is taken and Yunho places within his palm the offering. The kindergarten teacher has let go for a few seconds already, but Changmin has not moved a muscle and only stares at what he’s been gifted.

“Fruit-flavored vitamin powder,” Yunho explains, quite proud to be of potential help. “These have helped me through many a sick day. It’s best to mix a pack in a glass of water or juice instead of eating it straight, but that is also just my preference.”

He checks the time on his phone, panicking to find that he has less than half an hour to help Taemin and needs to hurry out of the store without making his purchases. Yunho bows his head and excuses himself for the last time with a wave goodbye.

“Changmin-ssi, get well soon! Let’s talk more next time.”

“Take care,” Changmin mumbles, and he’s stuck staring at the drink powder packets in his hand while Yunho pulls his basket up to the “returns” corner of the store interior before making a quick exit out of automatic double doors.

He sighs at the lost opportunity of being able to casually ask for "vitamin teacher's" number.

* * *

A/N: Thank you for reading the second chapter! Thank you guys for also being so kind as well. I'm very grateful for the warm welcome. ^^ Again, comments would very much be appreciated.


	3. Overnight

Taemin shifts, brushing his palm over the velvet cushion of his seat as he watches the two currently sitting across the table. “Does it look all right?”

Yunho scrolls through electronic pages with a slow swipe of his index finger traveling up the student’s tablet screen. He hums as he skims over the last page of the document and Heechul knows him well enough to take that as approval and hand him the stylus twirled in between his fingers. Yunho signs on the line by Heechul’s name at the bottom and Taemin eagerly takes the device back to reattach his keyboard and finally submit the assignment.

The student’s fingers fly over the keys and the sound of arrhythmic tapping accompanies lighthearted jazz music playing above his head in the spacious café so gracious enough to provide free internet for its customers. He hits the submission button on the screen just five minutes before the close of the hour and finally breathes a sigh of relief, cheeks puffed out as he exhales and shoulders relaxed as he clears his mind.

When he closes the tablet and tucks it into his backpack, Taemin finds that he has missed out on some very key details. By time he puts away hand-scrawled notes into an accordion folder, there is an unnatural silence coming from the opposite side of the table. Heechul is leaning in, staring intently at Yunho with the most conspicuous amount of concern on his face while Yunho leans away from the man and grips the elder’s forearm to shake him.

“I got it, I got it; stop that,” Yunho lifts his other hand to block off his coworker’s gaze and Heechul does not miss a beat in grasping it.

“ _Drink powder packets?_ ” he asks with heavy enunciation, pinning Yunho’s hand to the table. “You gave the man vitamin powder packets.”

“They’re the ones I take daily; it’s no big deal…” Yunho states, now thoroughly embarrassed.

Heechul pats the back of his hand with a soft palm. “Yunho, that kind of sharing is something we witness the children learning about during morning recess.”

Yunho sighs and looks down to trace with his eyes the fold along the length of his jacket sleeve. “I thought it was a good idea for the minute I had before booking it out of the market to meet with you two here.”

The eldest whips his head to Taemin, and the student’s fingers flinch as he clutches the straps of the backpack on his lap just in case he need utilize it as a shield. He bows and plants his forehead into the fabric of his bag. “Again, I’m really sorry. I’m keeping my promise to treat your order today, Yunho-hyung.”

Yunho slips free from underneath Heechul’s palm and waves with both hands to signal he not bother with the offer. “That’s not necessary. Just come with me to the grocery store after this, both of you.”

Heechul stops stirring his glass of iced water with a straw, brows lifting as he offers a keen smile. “Oh? Is our favorite chef still there?”

Yunho nudges the other’s arm, the effect of his scoff diminished by the laugh that rises from within his chest. “No. We’re running low on staff room goods and I don’t want to bother trying to figure out what everyone likes,” he plainly reasons. He drums his fingers along the side of his drink glass and wipes off the condensation onto a napkin.

“…I also ran out of powder packets and need to restock,” he mutters.

“Unbelievable,” Heechul starts to stare again, suddenly worried for the man.

Taemin hums in agreement, once more burying his face into the maroon Cordura of his book bag.

* * *

 Yunho is shuffling through the kitchen refrigerator to make room for his new groceries when his back pocket vibrates from a text notification.

_“Go to the grocery store often so you can potentially bump into him there again. ^^ Next time give him your phone number and not a kids’ drink.”_

He snickers, sliding his carton of juice into free space.

 _“ㅜㅜ Be nice to me or I will conveniently forget to bring the staff room coffee mix tomorrow morning ~,”_ the man types back.

Heechul immediately enters two exclamation points into the chat history and Yunho laughs as he closes the door with his foot.

_“Yurobbong, take it back!! I’m always nice to you!!”_

_“I know, I know ^^”_

Yunho has a popsicle from the freezer as a late dessert before getting ready for bed, all the while attempting to shake off his experiences from the day and staving off the urge to rethink his position on what he hopes was not a childish gesture towards the person who had caught his eye at Cassiopeia.

He goes to sleep with music on to not allow his mind to drift too far off.

* * *

 Come early morning, rays of sunlight seep through the pale blinds of the windows in Changmin’s apartment bedroom and slowly travel over the hills and valleys of creased bedsheets as the hours continue to tick into the new day. Changmin stirs awake when the light reaches his eyes by six o’clock and swears under his breath for having forgotten to shut his blinds the night prior, rolling onto his side with his back to the window and pillow folded over his head. His best efforts to sleep in on a sick day do him no favors when he finds himself fully awake just five minutes later. His stomach sounds its agreement with a grumble asking that he get breakfast instead.

The man’s mind is foggy at best as his body functions on autopilot to carry him through his morning routine, eyes still half-closed and hair left alone to pose however it pleases until he fully comes to. His house slippers shuffle lazily along the wooden flooring of his room as he enters the restroom to wash the sleep off of his face, and his mouth hangs wide open with a loud yawn that accompanies the creak of the bathroom door closing shut behind him.

Changmin eats for breakfast two bowls of rice and the remainder of the soup he’d purchased the night before with extra sesame oil that helps revive his sense of taste to compensate for what the cold had taken away from it. He quickly washes his dishes before padding over to his living room couch and places on his coffee table a glass of water to have with his cold medicine.

The small drawing of a smiling orange catches his eye from the corner of his vision—the drink powder packets he’d been gifted yesterday lay in a pile by his stack of coasters, untouched since he’d retrieved them from his sweater pocket and tossed them onto the glass table yesterday evening. Upon closer inspection Changmin finds that the tube packaging is patterned with a colorful assortment of fruits and bubbly font on a white background stating “the best you can have so you can give your best throughout the day.” Be it due to the blatant enthusiasm on a wrapper or Changmin’s medicine already kicking in, the man finds himself laughing and near immediately tearing off the pinched side of one packet to pour and mix its contents into his water.

The taste is sweet and the tang of concentrated citrus along with other flavors go down easily, though the aftertaste of lingering vitamins and granular immunity boosts leave something to be desired.

He’s positive it won’t get him sicker than he already is, and if it does, it will be from the sugar alone.

* * *

 It nears noon when he jolts from the sound of his doorbell chiming the arrival of an unexpected guest. Changmin mutes his television and tosses his phone onto the cushion now off his lap, standing up as he rakes his fingers through his hair to fix any fly-away locks that may have lost formation during his nap.

“I’ll be right there,” he calls out as he makes his way to the entrance. Changmin doesn’t need to get a better look at the silhouettes through his peek hole to know who’s visiting, and he opens the door to be greeted with a box of assorted fruit nearly grazing his nose.

“Hello,” Kyuhyun offers a bright smile with a wave and Changmin takes the container from Minho to properly face them.

“Changmin-hyung,” the youngest bows his head and enters the apartment after Kyuhyun. “How are you feeling? We heard you were experiencing some kind of fatigue.”

“Not especially rested if you two plan on setting up camp here,” Changmin laughs, shuffling towards the kitchen with box in both hands. “I thought I’d have time to myself. Don’t you two have work?”

“My shift doesn’t start until a little later this afternoon,” Minho trails behind and reaches for the cupboards to find plates and forks.

“Same here; no one needs a bartender at 12,” Kyuhyun excuses himself as well, waving at the two from his seat on a couch.

* * *

 Changmin works with nimble thumbs as he carves the skin off an apple into a single ribbon slowly pooling onto the plate beneath his hands. He taps his knife into the fruit and pulls the tool back out at the opposite end, holding the flat of the blade between his fingers to wag the plastic grip handle at his guests. “I’m the one who’s ill, but why am I the one peeling fruit for the other two in this room?”

Minho has one cheek stuffed with some grapes. “I bought the gift?”

“That you’re currently eating,” Changmin scoffs, flicking part of a pear core at his shoulder.

Kyuhyun sticks his fruit fork into a pear slice and gestures at Changmin’s hands with it. “You’re faster at this than both of us combined. I think we’re saving time this way.”

“Saving yours, but wasting mine,” the chef chuckles, dividing the apple into six slices.

Minho reaches for a coaster for his cup of tea, but finds that his fingers hover beside it to pick up a picture of a smiling orange instead. He shakes the powder packet by his ear before looking at the packaging again. “Are these what he gave you yesterday? Looks like some kind of supplement.”

Changmin draws blank, stopping halfway in cutting out a piece of the apple core as his eyes shift to the drink packet in Minho’s hand.

Kyuhyun turns his head away from the football game to join in. “What? ‘He?’ Who?”

“Yunho-hyung,” the youngest smiles, reading the label and list of contents. “He gave a handful of something to Changmin-hyung and looked like he had to run off somewh—“

“Wait, wait,” Changmin wipes his hands on a dish towel and shuts his eyes, still in disbelief. “When did you see that?”

“I went to the market last night as well when I heard you were ill," Minho chirps, tapping the cardboard cover of the fruit box to his left. "Though I didn’t want to say hi if it meant interrupting you while you looked a little dazed." He takes the rest of the packets into an open palm and stares at the bundle, using his free hand to gesture at the air between the vitamin powder and his eyes. “Just like this, but much more still and not blinking. I don’t know if I can say this, but the exchange was cute.”

Kyuhyun takes one of the packets to look for himself, brows furrowing as he scans over the colorful wrapper while Changmin’s arm extends to Minho’s head to messily ruffle his hair.

Kyuhyun does not miss the dusting of pink at the tips of Changmin’s ears and on the apples of his cheeks, and he hums aloud in amusement while reaching for his cellphone to quickly drop someone a text message.

* * *

A/N: My computer had a spontaneous shutdown in the middle of me working on this and not even the saved draft of this chapter had made it ^^; Pardon the delay, and thank you for your patience. I'm currently working on the next chapter and hope to upload it sooner than how long this update took.

Thank you for reading!


	4. On the Clock

“Again, I really owe you one.”

Boa skims over her writing, jotting down a series of small side notes on the piece of paper she’d been filling out for the past ten minutes while on the phone. “I’ve no reason to not take Sunmi in for the next few days. She gets along well with her aunt Boa, so we will have a fun time while you two are away.”

There is a contemplative sigh on the other line. “I just hope we’re not imposing on you too much with this. Feel free to call me or text over Kakao if there’s an issue of any kind.”

The patissier clicks her pen closed as she wraps up the conversation with her brother soon after, assuring him at the very end that she would provide enough pictures and check-ins to satiate their worries while away from their five-year-old for just under a week. She taps the ‘end call’ button on her screen and places her cellphone within her designated locker, only to have the device light up and beep just before she shuts the metal door. Kyuhyun’s name shows against a white stripe of a notification bar, and she holds her finger on-screen to access his message.

_“A lot more serious than we thought, nuna.”_

_“Our Changdol? Really now,”_ she types, entering the text into the chat room.

_“He apparently bumped into Yunho at the market yesterday and looks a little bashful when discussing it. I can really see it in his face today.”_

“Really now,” she says aloud this time, blinking at the text with moderate surprise.

Two commis chefs walk up to and softly rap their knuckles against the white coat of paint at the doorway to divert her attention, snapping her out of a reverie in imagining the possible potential behind Changmin and Yunho’s interests in one another.

The hours pass much faster than usual, though wedding cake orders in particular are prone to causing time to bend and fold without her keeping constant track. It isn’t until she looks over all stored fondant and chocolate decorations for the cake that she glances at the clock on a wall and finally hands off the remainder of her duties to the others at the station.

Boa times her strides as she walks the few blocks to the elementary school and finds that her feet feel lighter as she thinks about the kind of time she can spend with her niece—potentially full of insight and humorous commentary that can very much brighten anyone’s day. She joins the small crowd of parents and caretakers huddled about the school entrance and waits until someone waves from below eye level and addresses her by name.

“Boa! Long time no see,” Yunho greets, redirecting his focus to zipping up a student’s jacket. “Received the call this morning that you’re listed to pick up our friend Sunmi, right?”

“That’s right,” she smiles, peering at the walls inside. She’s enchanted by paper craft flowers and scribbled attempts at coloring lined along the stretch of the hall. “Has she been good today?”

“Of course, of course,” the teacher stands from his crouch and dusts off the front of his apron before escorting the young boy he had helped to his mother at the door. “Taemin-teacher, could you please?”

Taemin bows his head in greeting from his own spot on the floor helping a little girl with the velcro straps of her shoes and sends her off before grabbing the clipboard he’d left on top of a storage unit.

The aide skims over the second sheet on it and asks for Boa’s ID, softly apologizing for enforced protocol that he check every person who comes in the stead of a listed caretaker to pick up a child. Yunho watches with a small smile as Taemin scribbles the time and date while heading downstairs to bring out with him Boa’s niece.

With coast clear and no other parents or children within earshot of conversation, Boa takes out her phone to get a screenshot of her text chat with Kyuhyun and immediately sends the image to Yunho.

The kindergarten teacher stops sweeping and gathers a line of dust into a bright yellow plastic pan before his phone beeps with the notification from within his back pocket. There is slight confusion as he squints at his screen and wordlessly looks to the woman at the entrance, who in turn gestures with a roll of the wrist and open palm that he quickly go through it.

Within five seconds of reading the exchange, Yunho is crouching once more, phone dropped onto the lap of his apron as he covers his face with both hands. He groans into his palms and knows very well his face has turned significantly red by now and isn’t of much mind to show his long-time friend currently stifling a laugh.

“Yundol, it isn’t a bad thing.”

Yunho finally comes to after the initial wave of embarrassment subsides. He sighs, resting his chin on the heels of his palms and steels himself to face her judgment.

“What’s serious? And what does he mean by ‘bashful?’ Were they too much? The drink packets were too much, weren’t they?”

Boa shrugs a shoulder, shaking her head negative. “I think it’s cute. Maybe Changmin thinks so too. I already told you he’s interested in getting to know you a little more.”

Yunho stands as the faint sound of two pairs of approaching footsteps from downstairs draw closer.

“I hope you’re right,” he mutters, and pulls himself together as he turns to the staircase when the top of a toddler’s head comes into view. “Sunmi-ya, look who’s here!”

The little girl has bright eyes and a wide smile seeing Boa at the door, letting go of Taemin’s hand immediately to come jogging down the hall once she’d caught glimpse of her aunt waving her hands at her sides. Sunmi throws herself into her aunt’s embrace and squeals, already making a mess of her retied pony-tail as she nuzzles the woman’s arm.

“Sleepover!” the student jumps up and down in Boa’s hold and the woman laughs as Yunho struggles to keep Sunmi still enough to fit her arms through her coat sleeves.

* * *

The next morning Changmin returns to Cassiopeia while donning a face mask as a precautionary measure in the workplace and receives a warm welcome back from the kitchen staff during their pre-work huddle. During hours, he catches up briefly with each individual as he flutters from one station to another and pays the most attention at the expediting table where he is silent while watching others concentrate on plating. At the decline of the lunch rush, Changmin’s view of their inventory recount is blocked by a small plate with cheesecake that’s been nicked on the top layer. Boa places the dessert on top of his clipboard at the counter while handing the man a fork, and the sous-chef claps once in thanks before taking off his mask and digging in to take his first bite.

“You’re the best, truly. Thank you,” he says with half a mouthful.

“Good to see you,” the patissier smiles. “Are you feeling better?”

“Significantly,” Changmin replies in earnest. “I’ve been taking vitamins that really do the trick.”

Boa grins, knowing exactly what he’s referring to. “I see. Then I guess you can help me out today, right?” she asks, pointing at the plate.

He stops in the middle of scraping remnants of his last bite with the side of his fork to stare at the woman, suddenly cautious as if he need consider calling poison control.

“With?”

“My brother and his wife are out for a few days and I’m in charge of taking care of Sunmi before they return,” Boa drums her fingers along the metal surface of the counter and nods towards the clock on the wall just above the expediting table. “I’m leaving soon to deliver the wedding cake today and need to decorate on-site at the venue. I won’t be back on time to pick her up from school.”

Changmin feels his palms grow clammy and almost regrets accepting the cheesecake—his eyes dart to his shirt sleeves to check for any smears of food that landed elsewhere other than on his apron. “…From school?”

“Right. She gets out at around the middle of the staff break. Just bring her back here and I’ll try to return as soon as I can,” she pats his arm and soon after starts heading for the lockers with a small gesture to salute her coworker. “I already told Sunmi this morning that uncle Changmin is going to pick her up. My brother also called in at the school to add you to her list of contacts and trusted caretakers.”

“You already assumed I was going to take on this task?” Changmin blinks, evidently dumbfounded.

“I gave you cheesecake, didn’t I?” Boa responds, putting on her coat. “I’m cashing in on my free favor now.”

* * *

 Heechul gently convinces a child to spit out a broken piece of a red crayon when the class phone chimes throughout the room. He chucks the chewed-up glob into a trash can and quickly washes his hands before taking the phone receiver off the ringer to answer, keeping his eyes glued on the gathering of children reaching for the class bucket of crayons.

“This is Heechul speaking.”

“Yes, Kim Heechul-teacher? Please take note of your student Kwon Sunmi’s updated list of emergency contacts. I will be sending you and the others an email regarding the changes shortly.”

He flags down Yunho from across the classroom to keep an eye on the children after he hangs up, indoor slippers shuffling along the floor as he makes his way to the teachers’ office to check on the aforementioned email. He’s quick to access the attached file in his inbox and reacts with nothing more than intrigue lifting his brow. Heechul bites his lower lip to express as little as possible, but waves over Taemin passing by to come in and look at the computer screen.

The teacher’s aide is silent with hands on his hips and head cocked to the side. “…is this because he’s Boa-nuna’s coworker?”

“Perhaps,” the elder shrugs, and closes the tab before heading back out into the classroom.

* * *

 The afternoon hours pass shortly with no other updates or phone calls from the main office. When the school day comes to a close, Heechul is the one up on the top floor greeting and bidding parents farewell all the while dressing children in their coats and shoes.

The initial wave of hectic zipper pulling, buttoning, and shoe tying dies down by 20 minutes after class has ended for the kindergarten. Heechul is sweeping around the students’ cubbies and crouches to examine each compartment when he hears tired footsteps and a rustling plastic bag approaching the school entrance.

“I’m so sorry,” the exhausted man in dark wash jeans and a black flight jacket is doubled over and braces his hands on his legs to steady his heart rate. “I hope I’m not too late and disturbing you all.”

Heechul sets aside the broom and pan to approach the other and laughs to dismiss their worry. “There’s no need to worry; your timing is perfectly fine. How can I help you?”

“This is a terrible introduction, but my name is Shim Changmin,” the sous-chef finally stands straight, and the plastic bag in his jacket pocket rustles from any movement he makes. “I’m here to pick up Kwon Sunmi on behalf of her aunt Kwon Boa-ssi for today.”

The teacher blinks twice, finally coming to and reciprocating the bow once he’d processed who stood before him and taken a good look at his face. “...Yes; we received notification just this morning. We’ll be right back with her,” Heechul smiles in full, and he scurries down the stairs with one hand sliding over the wooden handrail.

Changmin waits patiently with arms loosely folded over his chest and finds himself skimming over the interior decorations of paper crafts over walls and small clay figures lined along a window sill. The colors are vivid and stimulate within him wonderment, and he smiles in awe of what he considers to be the seedlings of creativity scribbled on paper flower petals and stems.

“Uncle Chwangdollie, you’re here!”

“Oh? Changmin-ssi?”

Changmin startles and retracts his hand from tapping a small tuft of cotton glued to a paper plate like he’d just been caught touching a museum artifact.

Sunmi jumps excitedly in her heart-patterned socks the moment she hits the main floor and bolts straight for the man’s legs to hug them. “Can I do your makeup again like at my birthday party?” she beams.

Yunho claps his hands twice as he approaches the coat rack to call Sunmi’s attention. “Sunmi-ya, teacher thinks we should put on your sweater so you can go home faster. How does that sound?”

The little girl unwraps herself from Changmin’s legs and obediently retreats to a low coat rack against a wall.

Changmin feels his mouth is stuffed with wool again when Yunho approaches with warm eyes and a welcoming smile that can part a rainstorm and calm the seas. His jacket and sweater are cuffed at the sleeves where the fabric runs a tad too long and falls just under his wrist when he lifts his hand to offer a wave. “Changmin-ssi, what a surprise! I didn’t know you were considered one of Sunmi’s main contacts.”

“If anything, only for today. Boa-ssi is currently out on a cake delivery and asked that I take Sunmi back to Cassiopeia,” the man responds in light, finding the kindergarten teacher’s striped navy apron a particularly endearing factor to his work wardorbe.

“I see. Also, are you feeling better? You were a bit sick just a few days ago.”

“The powder packets I received from you were actually very effective for me,” Changmin states, and reaches for his pocket to take out the contents of the plastic bag. He presents the small box with two hands to Yunho, nodding so he accept the gift. “Actually, I wanted to repay you with something similar. I don’t know if you enjoy herbal supplement drinks, but I’m sure your occupation takes up a lot of energy…”

Yunho looks down to the four-pack of an older drink brand and shyly chuckles, licking his lower lip to distract himself from becoming conscientious of his heated face. “I gladly accept; thank you.”

Changmin does not take his eyes off the soft expression the other holds—he quietly sighs in relief that his offering is sufficient. “I’m sorry for taking as long as I did to get here. The lines at the store were comically slow.”

“Sunmi and her teachers were having a fun time downstairs while waiting; don’t worry,” Yunho lifts his gaze and places the drinks on the top of a shelf, grabbing the clipboard nearby. He asks for Changmin’s identification card and mumbles an apology for needing follow routine despite the apparent familiarity between the man and Sunmi.

“Born in 88?” the teacher tilts his head and returns the card promptly. Changmin blinks at the airy tone utilized and his eyebrows rise in curiosity. “You’re just about two years younger than I am,” Yunho grins, and Changmin feels that the wind had been knocked clear out of his diaphragm.

The younger man is in shock and quite silent, watching as Yunho cooes with a softer, higher voice at Sunmi’s attempt of buttoning her sweater. She pouts when the teacher undoes her hard work and explains she’s had her buttons misaligned along her torso, but giggles when he gently presses the sides of her hood against her cheeks and tells her she did a wonderful job regardless.

Yunho throws in three more compliments on the young girl’s hair tie color choice, the design on her shoes, and her overall cuteness before releasing her to Changmin. When the teacher stands at his full height again, he scribbles on an index card attached to the clipboard. There’s a beat, and Yunho hands the paper to Changmin for safe keeping. “Should uncle Chwangdollie need anything from the school or regarding Sunmi, please call this number,” he states, voice still higher pitched and soft in tone.

“Uncle Chwangdollie, do I get to see where my aunt works?” Sunmi asks, tugging on the edge of the chef’s front jean pocket.

Changmin pockets the index card with an amused scoff, taking Sunmi’s hand in his. “Yes, you do. Will you be okay walking with me to the restaurant so we can wait there for her?”

The student swings their connected hands and sways in excitement. “Let’s go right now. Do you think she’ll let me have a cookie she baked?”

Yunho laughs and the two men exchange their goodbyes when Sunmi begins tugging on Changmin’s hand to hurry back to Cassiopeia. The walk back is brisk and Sunmi’s determination to draw closer to her aunt’s desserts fuels her enough to head straight for the restaurant without delay.

* * *

Changmin makes it just in time before the staff break comes to an end and keeps the little girl company at an empty table in the staff lounge until Boa returns nearly an hour later and finds the two coloring pictures of birds with roll-up crayons scattered around the paper.

“Thanks for getting her,” Boa approaches the table and extends her hand across the flat surface to pet her niece’s hair. “Did you find everything okay?”

“Sunmi’s been very fun. I see she still enjoys makeup,” the sous-chef responds, tapping on a bird she colored to have bright pink cheeks and what seems to be purple eyeshadow. He checks the time on his phone and undoes the zipper of his jacket with mind to hurry and get back into uniform so he can man the kitchen again.

A folded paper slips out of the man’s pocket and Boa is quick to pick it up off the floor, flipping it over to find familiar penmanship in black ink.

Changmin apologizes under his breath. “I was handed this for whenever we need anything in particular from the school about Sunmi. I assume it’s the office phone number.”

"Shim Changmin, who handed this to you?"

"Yunho-teacher!" Sunmi raises her hand, as if answering a question in class.

The patissier sighs, takes Changmin’s wrist, and loudly claps the index card square right into the palm of his hand.

“You may want to take another day off to recover if you haven't noticed that this isn’t the office phone number yet.”

* * *

A/N: Ah, still updated later than I had thought; my apologies. ^^; Just as a quick update, this story now has [[cover art](https://twitter.com/sm0kingtiger/status/999336151595929600)]! My partner L was so lovely and gracious enough to draw this for the fic and I've been over the moon with how cute it is haha. If you would like to, please join us on our TVXQ joint account @sm0kingtiger for updates and feel free to contact me there for any questions, comments, or concerns you may have.

Again, comments would be appreciated ^^ Thank you for reading!


	5. Break Time

"They're gone now."

Yunho smiles from the top of the staircase and finds both his colleagues halfway down its length leaning on the handrail. Heechul claps once and pushes off the wall to stand properly and look up at the man. "About time; these work days just keep feeling longer as of late because of that prince of yours, Yunho-ssi."  
Taemin snickers with a shake of his head, following suit of his boss in finally undoing the tie of the work apron on his person. "Did he gift you something? I thought I heard a plastic bag, hyung."  
"Herbal supplement drinks," Yunho replies, draping his apron over a shoulder. "Buying them was the reason why he was in a rush today."

Heechul scoffs with a grin, walking up to the convenience store bag on a shelf when he reaches the top of the stairs. "Up the same alley, but at least it's better than what you thought of."

Yunho swipes his hand down his coworker's arm in a mock smack. "Are you ever going to drop that?"

"Absolutely not. You'll hear me talking about it until we get grey hair and need wooden canes."

"It's very kind of him," Taemin butts in as he examines the drink packaging and nutrition label on the back. "Though I do feel like this is something I've seen only older businessmen downing on the streets."

Yunho grins, gesturing for the aide to go ahead and help himself to one of the bottles to try. "An occupation of any kind has its hardships. This brand must have been with those workers for a long time."

"Changmin-ssi looks to be around our age," Heechul hovers his nose over the drink in his hand and looks to the side as he searches his memory for the name of the roots in the bottle. "So he's a few generations ahead and you're a few behind. Sounds cute."

* * *

Kyuhyun finds Changmin reflected in the raised bottle of scotch in his hand and turns on his heel from his spot behind the restaurant bar counter to welcome his friend to his station. He sets his towel aside by the sink and waves the glass bottle next to his face in greeting. "Changmin-ssi, how was work today?"

"I met him again this afternoon," his friend provides. He takes a seat on a pleather stool, not breaking eye contact with Kyuhyun as a grin forms to threaten permanent fixture onto his face. "His work apron is striped and his name tag has Pororo on it."

"You told me about the name tag already," the bartender scoffs, amused. "So I'm guessing work went by easily then?"

"He uses a different voice when he talks to the kids and gives them so many compliments while kneeling to look at them in the eye."

Kyuhyun throws his head back to laugh. "You're not listening to a word I say! Do you even know what I asked you?"

"It doesn't matter," Changmin hasn't blinked yet and rests his head in his hand, elbow braced against the polished counter. "I completely forgot about asking for his number while in the rush of picking up Sunmi, but he discretely gave me it. I took it as the school's reception line until Boa-nuna told me otherwise. Look," the chef digs within his jacket pocket to present the small index card.

Kyuhyun leans over and reaches for the card, snickering. "Mountain bird Kwon Sunmi's school help line," he reads aloud, raising an eyebrow by the end. "If you didn't tell me about Boa-nuna's confirmation, I would've considered you off your rocker. Have you contacted him yet?" 

Changmin shakes his head, taking the card handed back. "No, not yet."

"Then you really are off your rocker," the bartender mutters under his breath, attention shifted over to unhooking a ring of keys from his belt loop and tossing them to a coworker reentering the station. "Give me a moment, Romeo. I'll be right with you." 

* * *

 It's well into the evening when the streets outside of Cassiopeia have quieted enough for the two men to hear the rubber soles of their shoes scrape against the well-trodden sidewalk as they head home. Changmin's face is illuminated with a faint light blue as he dials the phone number onto his device with Kyuhyun hovering over his shoulder, only to tease him and add unnecessary pressure to the moment. The sous-chef hits the speaker button and raises the volume only high enough so both can hear the trill of the ringer go off into the night.

Changmin suddenly stops in his tracks after the second ring and his eyes widen at a thought, uncaring that Kyuhyun nearly accidentally knocks the cellphone out of his hand when they bump shoulders.

"Wait, what time do primary schools start again?"

The ringing stops when an audible click goes off on the other line- the sound of muffled rustling fills the space between their listening ears just until there's a pause for silence and a tired voice softly yawns far from the receiver.

_"Hello?"_

In a moment of panic, Changmin shoves his phone into a very distressed Kyuhyun's hand and mouths "We woke him! Make something up!"

"Eunhye, I miss you so much," Kyuhyun drawls at the device, all the while glaring at his coworker who sits in a squat in the middle of the footpath. Changmin looks up with sealed lips and a very sorry face, folding his arms medially and resting his hands on his knees.

Yunho hums over the phone, groggy voice still holding practiced patience regardless. _"-m sorry?"_  

Kyuhyun turns to a wall of wood in the suburban street they've reached and whines into the phone. "Eunhye-ya, don't be like this and pretend to have forgotten me-"

_"Think you've the wrong number. Good luck, though,"_ the school teacher murmurs, unapologetic in interrupting a man whom he thinks is drunk. He hangs up before Kyuhyun has any time to respond, much to their relief. 

He tosses the phone at Changmin while it still sounds off the disconnected tone and walks over to push one of the man's shoulders with his hand.   
"Shim Changmin, what was that?! Are you insane?!"

"So he must go to bed sometime before 11," the sous-chef nods slowly and turns off the device screen to tuck it away into his pocket. "That makes a lot of sense."

Kyuhyun tries tripping him with one leg when he gets up to stand. 

* * *

 Changmin sits on the side of his bed later that evening, swiping his cellphone off the nightstand to check his messages before going to sleep.

Kyuhyun had sent four texts in the lapse of time since they split to go their separate ways home and he'd taken a shower. 

 

> _< [_ _You know what you owe me for helping pull off a stunt like that?]_
> 
> _< [_ _A free dinner.]_
> 
> _< [_ _A free dinner of an entirely new menu dedicated to and expressing your undying love for your best friend.]_
> 
> _< [_ _Changmin-ssi. I'm looking forward to it.]_

He turns off the small lamp to his side and lies down on the spread comforter, pulling up his touch keyboard onto the bottom half of his screen.

 

 

> _[You're right. I'll make an appetizer in the shape of your favorite gaming mouse and serve you a parfait in a wine glass] > _

* * *

 Yunho has some trouble waking up to his phone alarm in the bright and early morning in the aftermath of such an odd interruption he'd received. The conversation comes up as only fog within his memory while he brushes his teeth and by time he finishes shaving, he faintly recalls quite the sad voice on the opposite line.

He's about to check his emails when he notices a text message notification on the bottom right corner of his home screen. Yunho pulls up a brand new message thread with a phone number he does not recognize.

 

> _< [_ _Hello, this is Shim Changmin, the one who received your vitamin packets some time ago. I hope this finds you at a convenient time. ^^]  
>  <[I'm sorry for the call last night. My friend and I had been drinking and I let him borrow my handheld to call for a ride.]   
>  <[I did not think he would've gone through my contacts list to call someone else and accidentally select your number instead.]_ 

Yunho stops the pour of orange juice into his glass. "Ah, so that's why there was crying."

 

> _[_ _I don't recall very well since I was so sleepy, but I hope your friend is feeling better today,~] >  
>  [_ _Mistakes can happen. Let's talk comfortably *^^*] > _

* * *

 

Heechul nudges Yunho's arm and takes a seat next to him in the school staff lounge.

"Stop flirting with Changmin over text at this hour in the morning. We haven't even had our morning meeting yet."

Yunho pockets his phone and accepts the cup of hot chocolate held up to his face. "How did you know I'm texting Changmin?" 

"You just confirmed it with your own mouth," the teacher replies, taking a sip from his own drink. "You're also smiling very widely."

Yunho brushes his hand over the lower half of his face, sheepish.

"So, any good news? He texted you a lot faster than hoped for," Heechul leans closer, curiosity evident on his face. "How's his chatting style? Does he use a lot of slang or emoticons?" 

"Not much slang, but he does use emoticons," Yunho supplies. "I'm actually going to meet him for coffee at Bigeast later after work."

Heechul nods in approval and pats his colleague's knee in a congratulatory gesture. "You better learn how to drink a cup of coffee by the end of today, I suppose. No more iced chocolate for that child's palate of yours." 

Yunho intentionally leaves Heechul to play tag with the kids alone throughout all of recess that afternoon.

* * *

 Although cleaning after class takes more time on days when Taemin isn't present, Yunho finishes with just enough time to comfortably walk and meet Changmin at the cafe he occasionally visits with friends and coworkers.

The moment he goes through the entrance of Bigeast, a distant hand to his right waves him over before one of the establishment's waitresses has a chance to welcome him. Yunho politely excuses himself to join Changmin at a table near the wall veiled with a long red curtain tied halfway down its length.

He smiles, bowing his head when Changmin stands from his seat to greet him properly. "You're already here! I'm sorry, did you wait long?"

The sous-chef chuckles and shakes his head as he smooths over the lapels of his trench coat while sitting back down on a plush black armchair.

"Not at all; I just arrived as well," he states with an attentive smile, and slides over a menu from the center of the table. ** **  
****

Yunho orders an iced Americano and Changmin helps himself to an iced latte that both turn diluted and nearly ignored as the two avidly discuss with one another each other's interests and hobbies outside of their respective workplaces. 

Changmi's mind feels exhausted in hearing Yunho's schedule of orphanage and soup kitchen volunteering hours and teaching dance on weekends on top of working with children from Monday through Friday. On the other hand, many of the foreign terms surrounding a passion for culinary arts, reading material, and sports that Changmin very easily brings up essentially fly in through one ear and right out the other for Yunho, and he quite conspicuously furrows his brows in concentration trying to catch everything it is Changmin says in all languages.

"I must seem incredibly boring," the sous-chef leans back against a cushion and drums his fingers over the armrest of his seat. "I'm afraid I'm more of a home body than voluntarily willing to be so active and engaged with people like you are. We must walk on very different kinds of roads of life."

"You should teach me sometime," Yunho leans forwards and rests his elbows upon his knees, fingers all intertwined.

Changmin blinks, his mind taken aback and his heart skipping a beat. "Teach?" 

"I'd like to be more rounded and well-versed in topics that people can connect with easily," Yunho explains with a smile that softens his eyes. "Like with food. I'm very impressed with how much you know that goes beyond what your occupation entails. Food really does bring people together, right? It's just about all we see on television as of late."

The chef fixes the fringe near his eyes just so he can momentarily hide behind his hand.

"I think you would be the type to get along very well with people abroad," the school teacher tilts his head in thought and glances at a passing pedestrian outside the window. "It takes a very smart person to do so."

Changmin stifles a snicker developing within his chest.

"What's so funny?" Yunho finally takes a sip of his watered-down Americano.

"Compliment fairy."

There's a cough. "I'm sorry?"

Changmin shifts in his chair to fully lean to the side-- an elbow at the tip of the armrest and chin resting upon the knuckles of his hand. "A compliment fairy," he reiterates, and he crosses one leg over the other. "You're very good at giving people a reason to feel good about themselves. That's a rare find, even in teachers."

Yunho licks his lower lip again while at a loss for words, and Changmin straightens his spine in victory.

* * *

 When it's time for Changmin to prepare heading back to Cassiopeia, he dismisses the silent notification lit up on his phone screen and reaches for his wallet to take out his credit card. "Since I'm the one who invited you out on such short notice, I'd like to treat you today for your troubles."

Yunho suppresses a type of laugh he'd always found embarrassing of himself by biting his drink straw. He looks to Changmin, whose eyes read over him curiously and with intent.   
"Absolutely not." 

Changmin blinks, lips parted in surprise. "Pardon?" 

"I'm your hyung by two years," Yunho reasons, holding up two fingers and wiggling them by the side of his face. "I'll take care of it."

"You're joking."

"I'm serious," Yunho promptly replies, raising his hand up in the air to flag down a staff member to approach the table. "You still have some hours of work to go tonight; just have the coffee on me and maybe I'll let you treat next time, all right?"

Changmin quirks a brow, and Yunho does finds that the indoor lighting glimmers brightly in the other's eyes. "Next time? Will you agree to meet with me again sometime?" 

Yunho dismisses the waiter with his card and gently presses the back of his hand to his warmed face. He occupies his eyes with the velvet cushion near his lap and lifts his face to meet Changmin's gaze a moment later.

"Yeah. I'd like that."

* * *

 They both discuss the upcoming week's weather and some holidays scattered across the month's calendar while walking back to Cassiopeia, and Changmin makes light commentary on smaller establishments and recommends dishes he'd tried at nearly all of them. By the tenth plate he introduces, Yunho's made himself comfortable laughing aloud in front of the man and commends him for having such an impressive memory for them all.

"And although the cheesecake at this cafe is fantastic, I have to say that Kwon Boa-ssi's has the be the very best in the city, at least," Changmin taps his chin, solidifying his statement.

"Ah, speaking of Boa," Yunho grins and turns to look at Changmin's side profile. "There was a statement Sunmi had made to you I was very curious of. Is she your personal stylist?"  
Changmin nods mutedly and fishes out his cellphone, accessing his photo gallery.

"Kwon Sunmi occasionally sets fire to her burning passion for art and uses those around her as canvases, both willing and not," he introduces, pulling up a selca with the small student beside him. Yunho is handed the device and Changmin swipes through a few more pictures of himself with varying color palettes on his face and plastic accessories heavily decorated with glitter and shimmering jewels shaped as hearts or stars. "There is not one of these where I don't look like a tropical bird."

Yunho zooms in and out of photos to take a look at Sunmi's choices for eyeshadow and lip gloss and laughs at plastic clip-ons that show as lopsided on Changmin's ears. "You must be a long-time friend of hers to have an entire collage worth of images," he hands back the phone with both hands and graciously bows. "You look great. The loveliest tropical bird on any island."

"You're too kind," Changmin turns off the screen and stuffs his phone back into his pocket, and Yunho finds the glimpse of their wrinkled nose at the statement all too endearing.

When they reach Cassiopeia, Yunho bids Changmin farewell with a more casual bow and smile that Changmin thinks can carry him over the rest of his shift better than any cup of coffee ever can.

He waits until Yunho is out of view and blended amongst busied pedestrians along the sidewalk before stepping back inside for working the dinner rush.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! It's been quite a while, hasn't it?  
> This story was not updated for a while due to the commissioner's request and discussion with me for a change of plans in the pacing of this plot. I will be removing the "slow burn" tag on this fic's description and may need to rethink a few things in order to create a flow that still fits well with the previous chapters. Hopefully it will not turn too choppy. ^^;; I'm sorry for the inconvenience this may cause, if any.  
> Comments are appreciated, as per usual. Thank you very much for continuing to stay with me on this wild ride.


	6. Love Line

Minho holds open the glass door with a leather loafer heel and extends his hands to brush along the shoulder seams on Changmin’s coat.  
“Changmin-hyung, I thought you said you were grabbing something to eat with Yunho-hyung tonight, not modelling on a runway.”

The sous-chef re-enters Cassiopeia and turns to Minho marveling the stitch pattern of his sleeve. “Does it look all right?”

“It suits you really well,” the waiter supplies with an endeared smile and tilts his head at a thought. “I don’t think I’ve seen you wear this since last year’s staff banquet, if I remember correctly. Are you just gradually increasing your wardrobe grade every week when you meet with him?” he asks with cordial curiosity, and follows alongside Changmin as they both walk over to the restaurant kitchen.

At that, Changmin blanks for word choice, shaking his head and waving his hand near his face to dismiss Minho’s advancing prodding. “I’m just running out of new things to wear around him is all. I’d like to show some variety.”

“Right, right,” the younger man pats the other’s back in good natured encouragement and changes the topic before he tread near teasing. “Did you have a nice time, though? Where’d you go?”

“He treated me to rice cake soup at a place that’s been around for ages and has, earnestly,” Changmin pauses to look Minho in the eye and gesture with an index finger by his temple, “the best pork dumplings I’ve ever had in my life. I need to go back and speak with their staff when I can.”

Minho bites back a laugh. “As expected of you-- highly passionate about the taste of food where and whenever. Does he listen well to you talking about food? What kind of conversations did you have?”

“Nothing all too personal or deep for an active afternoon. The place is rather popular,” Changmin shrugs off his coat and neatly folds it to place inside his work locker. “And the same goes for Yunho. A few guests and even the waitress serving us talked amicably with him. He seems to know almost everyone around here.”

The waiter hums, shifting his weight off the doorway to follow Changmin passing through equipment storage. “Do you run into interruptions often when you two go out every week?”  

Changmin releases a small sigh of an odd mix encompassing fascination and defeat. “He’s so personally involved with the people who live in this community, it’s amazing.” He reaches for the strings of his apron at his sides and near immediately feels a rough shove to his shoulder as a rush of cold air pervades throughout his skin.

Minho closes the walk-in refrigerator door behind them.

“ Okay. Hyung, I think there’s a problem.”

“Not in here again, please. Hyung is an old man.”

“I think you’re going to be labeled as only a younger sibling figure to Yunho-hyung if this keeps up.”

Changmin brushes away a bundle of leafy carrot stems off his forearm from his spot in front of a metal rack. “You couldn’t at least push me in here when I had my coat on?”

Minho visibly slumps, squinting at the 30-year-old. “Hyung,” he states again, digging into the back pocket of his slacks to retrieve his smartphone. He slides out a stylus from the top corner of the device and turns on his screen to access a blank white tab. He then draws a Venn diagram of two circles, and by time Changmin makes his exhausted way over to take a look at multi-colored digital ink scribbles, Minho’s put together an explanation only comprehensible to his own mind.

“Minho-ya, what in the world are you--”

Minho loudly taps his screen with the stylus to accent a punctuation mark. “Changmin-hyung, there’s a reason why I’m called a ‘hyung collector’ amongst my friends and the staff around here. I have a really good sense about this kind of thing. Trust me and let me try to help you.”

Changmin looks particularly skeptical of his claim.

“Hear me out; hear me out.”

Changmin blinks.

The stylus end points to the circle on the left. “If you two are visiting places that are consistently busy and filled with familiars of Yunho-hyung, doesn’t that thin veil of access to private conversation get compromised? He’s also been treating you to all the food and beverages thus far. You see what I mean.”

“He wants to pay since I usually have a few hours of work in the evenings.”

“I think it means he’s trying to be a good hyung,” Minho gently interjects, tapping the flat end of his stylus to his bottom lip. He then hovers the pen over the circle on the right side of his phone screen. “I think the romantic interest will fade if you two can’t progress it from where you are now. From what I’ve heard, it doesn’t sound like you two have had a more proper outing yet. Something more personal when there are less pairs of recognizable eyes.”

There’s a vertical strip of light that appears behind Minho’s back as the fridge door then carefully swings open to allow Boa in with a tray of dark and white chocolate garnishes.

She sighs.

“...Sure, I guess.”

Neither startled nor phased by the two huddled together in the middle of the refrigerator, she quietly sees herself out with a bowed head after sliding her chocolate tray onto available shelf space to the left, closing the door as quietly possible as to not disturb the pair.

Changmin eventually gets around to releasing the pressure from his clenched jaw when the sound of the woman’s work shoes fade away.

“Don’t worry; Boa-nuna knows Kyuhyun-hyung and I talk in here every once in a while,” Minho nods, turning off the screen to his phone and clicking his stylus back in its compartment.

“You two do this regularly?”

“I said ‘every once in a while,’ hyung,” the waiter smiles with a small shrug of one shoulder before opening the door and gesturing with bowed head for the other to exit.

“Anyway, it’s just something for your consideration. As your dongsaeng, I’m sorry for saying out loud my suggestion, but as your friend, I think prioritizing uninterrupted time together will be good for you both.”

Changmin exhales carefully, stepping out into the light of the kitchen area first before reaching over and roughly tousling Minho’s hair with an ice-cold hand.

The sous-chef sighs, watching Minho beam with pride. “Look at how big you’ve gotten. Nothing to apologize for. I appreciate it,” he says, grinning with warmth that finally returns to his limbs. “Have any recommendations?”

Minho almost too enthusiastically presents a folded piece of glossy, colored paper from within the left front pocket of his slacks.

“How about here?”

Changmin sighs again, then lazily kicks at the back of Minho’s knee.

* * *

“See, this is what you get for not hanging out with me on weekends. There’s no way you’re going to survive,” Heechul mutters, scraping at his lunch with a metal spoon.

Yunho furrows his brows and shovels another bite of bean sprouts into his mouth. “You usually aren’t this mean, Heechul-teacher.”

Heechul pats the other man’s back and hands him a napkin from his left. “Circle is a nice place; don’t get me wrong. I’m just worried about how you’re going to handle the encyclopedia of a ‘juices’ menu they have there,” he reasons. “It’s where a lot of aficionados tend to flock to nowadays, even if it is a quiet establishment in general.”

Yunho deflates in his seat, slowly stirring around the cubes of tofu along the metal circumference of his soup bowl. His lack of food and drinking finesse had never posed much of an issue in either his professional or personal spheres of life, however it was only recently he noticed exactly how much of an influence it held in the society surrounding him.

He leans to Heechul’s side, turning his head and cupping his hand by his mouth to quietly ask, “Hyung, do you think I’m a little too simple? Maybe?”

Heechul dulls his gaze with lifted brows and blinks once, then twice.

“Busy. Extremely busy. Not ‘simple,’” he corrects, and steals a piece of pickled radish off of Yunho’s serving. “It’s because you don’t indulge in things like unfamiliar food and drink during your free time, which you severely lack.”

The younger man frowns in earnest, feeling as if he was being scolded for keeping a high-intensity schedule.

“Enough of that face,” his colleague waves off. “You know what I mean.”

Yunho’s thoughts are interrupted when he is prompted to take into his hand a small tray and place a few more side dishes within designated spots before handing it back to one of their students. “Fine. Any pointers or tips on what’s a good ‘juice,’ then?”

“Teacher, my favorites are orange and apple juice!” the child before him grins, raising one hand into the air.

“Oh! Teacher likes orange juice too, just like Hana!” Yunho gives the little girl a thumbs-up and nods heavily in approval. “Every morning, one cup.”

“Yunho-teacher, me too!” Minhyuk pipes in with a mouth full of rice.

Seunghyun holds a plastic chopstick in each small hand and raises them above his head. “I drink milk!”

“Ew!” another student interjects; Seunghyun whips his head to the right to directly face a little girl named Mina.

Heechul holds back a sigh and both kindergarten teachers exchange a look of mutual understanding, hurrying to down their food just like in their enlistment days before getting ready to settle down the children in the classroom.

* * *

As the week progresses, Yunho gets to memorizing recommendation lists written by avid food bloggers that Heechul had linked him through their chatroom. The wines are in names of a variety of languages and the entrees seem too photogenic to eat, but Yunho makes the effort and mental gameplan to do his best to try and impress Changmin while on their outing together on Friday evening.  

Friday finally approaches, and Circle turns to be an easy find for Yunho after he steps out onto bustling weekend evening streets from the top of the stairs at a subway station. The neighboring shops and eateries all have decorations complementing well the modern architecture of their buildings, and Yunho takes pictures of dessert establishment business signs to research thoroughly when he gets home.

“Are shaved snow desserts a favorite of yours, Yunho-ssi?”

Yunho blanks from having stared at a menu taped to glass when he turns his head to find Changmin skimming over it as well, face close to his own and side profile causing him to blank again.

“Changmin! I thought I still had some time before meeting up with you,” he checks his phone before pocketing it and standing straight to face the man.

“You do,” Changmin nods in reassurance and stuffs his hands into the pockets of his overcoat. “I just wanted to take a look over the menu first, if possible.”

“I heard they have a good selection of pau--...paupi...”

The way Changmin quirks his head and looks off to search his own memory bank makes Yunho fluster as he struggles for the last syllable.

“Ah,” the younger man loosely wags his finger in front of his nose and locks in a victorious gaze with Yunho’s eyes. “Paupiette? That’s very charming.”

“Right! Right-- it’s a menu I don’t really know too much about, but it sounds charming and interesting,” the school teacher turns on his heel and shrugs in the direction of the restaurant.

Changmin smiles at the back of Yunho’s head as he follows closely behind before properly matching the pace of their stride to walk alongside him.

Very charming, indeed.

* * *

With proper reservation, seating inside of Circle is a quick and swift process that allows the two just enough time to marvel at the interior design of the establishment. It is mostly low lighting with rustic overtones prominent in patterned wood varieties at the bar and along the walls, one of them fully glass from floor to ceiling leading out to outdoor seating decorated with the vines of plants curled about the deck fencing. Yunho briefly compliments the waiter on the staff taking such good care of the place to maintain its atmosphere, and the escort bows his head in appreciation before seating the two at a table nearby the guest drawings chalkboard.

Ordering dinner goes off without a hitch, as Changmin very thoroughly examines the menu items and jots down on his phone some unfamiliar flavor combinations he’d like to try at Cassiopeia when given the chance.

His eyes light up over opening the separate alcohol menu, however, and Yunho takes note the thing really does look like an encyclopedia just as Heechul mentioned.

He is familiar with the kinds of faces and small comments Changmin tends to make while enjoying a meal, and he does not miss out on a single one even in the dimmer lighting of the restaurant. Yunho’s vision begins to grow hazy and his ears feel they are stuffed with cotton by time they reach their second glass of Barbera d’Alba poured by a talkative sommelier enthusiastically describing what pairs well with the selection.

The school teacher brushes off Changmin’s concerns when he is asked if skipping out on cocktails would be preferable. He feels the pair of eyes sitting before him turning amused as time continues to pass as they ride out conversation regarding upcoming television episode releases and predictions for how baseball season may turn out. Yunho does not know when the wine glass in his hand is replaced with a glass of water, but he does not complain when the cold refreshes his heated face with the next few sips he takes.

Changmin thinks to himself that seeing Yunho in a much quieter, mostly confused state while gently resting his chin in the palm of his hand is surprising. When Yunho’s eyes rest to open only halfway and his body does not sit upright in the seat, the younger man wonders if tonight should serve opportunity for them to finally talk about themselves and each other freely. After all, the initiative was to take the chance and progress their relationship further than just a friend to meet once a week and eat together with.

Yet, there is a shroud of guilt that veils over his conscience and the present opportunity does not satisfy Changmin. With further thought, he firmly decides he holds no interest in taking advantage of Yunho’s emotional and mental vulnerability when in a state where he may be unable to guard and articulate himself in a way that is most comfortable.

There is no respect to be had during a one-sided conversation regarding such an important topic, anyway.

Instead, the sous-chef takes advantage of handling the dinner bill for the first time since they met, and turns in his seat to flag down their waiter across the room.

* * *

Whenever Yunho sighs, Changmin smells hints of nectarine from his breath as he helps stabilize Yunho to slowly walk out of Circle. Changmin grasps Yunho’s arm to sling over his shoulders and places his free hand on the other’s back to steady their stride as they cross the street and enter a public park lined with convenient benches and lamp posts illuminating a concrete footpath over grass.

“Shim Changmin-ssi, do y’dance?”

“Not at all,” Changmin adjusts the weight of their bodies once more with a grunt.

“We should, sometime,” Yunho’s eyes widen with hope glimmering in his irises, and he turns his head to nearly touch his nose to Changmin’s cheek.

“I can do the soldier clap, and that’s about it,” the younger man immediately ducks and looks away to prevent a heart attack on-site.

* * *

 Yunho laughs with his head thrown back when Changmin complains about his weight and apologizes for the inconvenience in general.

“Can’t really hol’ alcohol t’well,” he lets go of Changmin when they reach a free bench and sits, slumping onto cold wood as his heels dig into the grass beneath his feet.

“No kidding,” Changmin takes a seat beside him and also slides, only out of depleted energy. “How are you feeling? Will you be all right? I can grab something from the shops nearby if you need.”

“‘m okay, jus sorry’z all,” Yunho rubs at his eyes with the back of his hand and adjusts the sleeves of his coat. “Didn’ want t’seem too much of a lightweight in front’f you.”

“There really is no need for that; I’d rather you be how you are without apology,” the chef folds his arms over his chest, looking up to stars visible even with urban lighting.

 

Changmin realizes what came from his lips is almost too close of a confession on its own, and his desire to know what role he currently plays in Yunho’s life eats away at the back of his mind.

 

“...Yunho-ssi, I was wondering if maybe we could discuss something I’ve been thinking about for a while.”

 

Yunho places his hands in his coat when a two seconds pass and he begins to pat down all available pockets on his person. “Hol’ on; can y’call my phone real quick?” he asks, his expression suddenly very sober. “Could’ve sworn I had it.”

Changmin obliges without hesitation and pulls out his own device to call Yunho, standing up from his seat on the bench to listen for a ringtone somewhere nearby.

 

A blue light shines against the blades of a patch of grass just meters away, and Changmin jogs over to pick up the missing smartphone off the ground.

 

What stares up at him is the name “ **Changdola ♡** ” in bold white font on its screen.

 

“Is it over there?” Yunho waves to the back of Changmin’s head. “Did you find it?”

“I got it!” the chef lifts his hand and squats to pick it up.

 

_Pretty sure I get it._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have chosen to read this chapter after all this time, thank you so much for your continued interest in the story! The commissioner for this prompt has dropped all contact with me, and I had originally planned to let this prompt go. However, I've decided to push forward with this just for fun, and I thank you for wanting to continue on this writing journey with me :'3c  
> Thank you for reading! Please feel free to comment, if you'd like.


End file.
